Dani’s [POV]
Eager to get out of the house the next morning, I arrive early at school. I’m looking at about forty-five minutes to kill on my own. Glad I brought a book with me, I decided to hang out at our usual lunch place. On my way to the rooftop, I pass by the principal’s office and hear two voices inside.
“You are going to respect our teachers if you want to stay here.”
I wince, coming to a halt in front of the door. The principal never shouts.
“Maybe I don’t want to stay,” Damon says in a defiant tone.
“Your father insists-”
“What did he bribe you with?”
“You will show me respect, boy.” After a long pause, he continues. “You could do well here. Your old grades are good. Better than good. Someone who had to deal with so much and still got mostly A’s has perseverance. You could get very far, Damon. It depends on what you will use your perseverance for.”
Another long pause.
“Anything else?”
“No, that will be all,” the principal says in a defeated tone.
I realize a split-second too late that Damon will exit the office. I pad back, looking for a place to hide. Too late. Damon bangs the door open and darts out. He’s wearing black today, as well. I catch my breath. Something about his bright green eyes completely shakes me. Were they as impossibly beautiful as yesterday? They couldn’t have been… I can’t imagine being angry at someone whose gaze impacts me this way.
When he speaks, I remember just how angry this boy can make me. “Among all your defects, you also like to eavesdrop?”
I clench my fist, pulling myself to my full height, which doesn’t amount to much. “I was just passing through here.”
“And then you heard my sweet voice and couldn’t help listening?”
“N-no,” I stutter. “I just-”
He crosses to me fast. Before I blink twice, his arm snakes around my waist, plastering me to him.
“Let me go.”
His lips curl into a satisfied smirk. “This is the second time in two days that you’ve been in my arms. I think you like it here.”
Hunching his shoulders, Damon lowers himself until we’re eye to eye.
“You’re delusional.” I’d sound more believable if my voice wasn’t so breathy and undependable. “Get your hands off me.”
“I will as soon as you admit you were eavesdropping.” He’s so close to me that the whiff of hot breath accompanying every word lands on my lips. It makes my knees w
eak and the inside of my mouth dry.
Determined not to give him satisfaction, I spit, “Fine. I was. And you know what?”
“Oh, I’m dying to know.”
“This whole arrogant, bad-boy image, always dressing in black and rebelling against your father is very passe.”
He drops his arms, his eyes growing cold. “You know nothing about me.”
“Oh, the misunderstood bad boy. You’re turning into a walking cliche by the second.”
“So are you. The rich girl who thinks she’s better than everyone else. Someone dressing like you has no business giving fashion advice,” he says. His comment stings, but I don’t let it show.
“I think I’m better than everyone else? You look at everyone around here like they’re scum, you frustrated moron.”
“Frustrated?” There is a hint of surprise behind the coldness in his tone.
“Yeah. Only frustrated people enjoy taking their feelings out by being rude to others like-”
“Oh, not this again. Go bore someone else with your defense of spineless teachers. Why don’t you go hang out with the principal since you both seem to enjoy the subject so much?”
I purse my lips. “If you hate it so much here, why don’t you leave?”
“I can’t.” He fixes his backpack on his shoulder, his hands twitching along the strap. “If I had a choice, I would be out of California in a second.” He shakes his head. “Have you ever felt so trapped in your skin you were sure you’d asphyxiate?”
The desperation in his question catches me off-guard. His bright green eyes bore into mine, demanding honesty, so that’s what I gave him.
“Yes. It’s a feeling I wake up to most days.”
I’m expecting him to mock me, but he just says, “For your information, I’m not wearing black to make any statement. I’m mourning someone.”
“That just makes half of the things I said to you awful,” I babble. “I’m sorry.”
“You think just half of the things you said to me were awful? In this case, you’re awful,” he says, but with a smile. Then he bursts out laughing. Not in a mocking way; in a heartfelt, cheerful way.
I still hear his laugh echo in the corridor as I make my way to the rooftop.
***
As usual, I get too engrossed in my reading and am almost late for class. Sitting next to Hazel, I take out my books when Damon appears in front of our desk.
“You dropped your phone in the hallway,” he says politely.
“No, I didn’t.” I look in bewilderment as he drops my smartphone in my hand. Damon smiles mischievously, walking over to his desk as Ms. Evans enters the class. Wouldn’t I have noticed if my phone had fallen on the corridor during our altercation? Not really… I was too preoccupied with him to notice anything else. My skin heats up at the memory of his closeness. I swivel to ask Hazel something and find her staring at me with curious eyes.
“Do you have anything to share about your morning?”
“I read a book,” I mumble.
Ms. Evans started talking about the Bronte novel we had to read when I received a text.
You should take better care of your things.
The sender appears only by number, not name, but I know who it is. Sure enough, one glance in Damon’s direction confirms my suspicion. He’s not looking at me or his phone but lifts the corner of his lips. It dawns on me that I might not have dropped my phone at all. He must have taken it from my pocket.
And you shouldn’t steal other people’s things, I reply.
Hey, you were eavesdropping, so don’t go all saint on me. You were the first offender.
I smile, overcome by a strange giddiness. I can’t believe he stole my phone, or that he got my number, or that he’s texting me right now. I’m grinning like an idiot. It’s the first time a guy has written to me and not asked for my notes or something similar. Given our less-than-friendly interactions yesterday and this morning, this is a surprise. Sometimes it takes a healthy fight and a familiar pain to gain a friend.
“After the battle of stares, yesterday follows the battle of messages?” Hazel murmurs, smiling. “Bad boy is showing quite an interest in you.”
“No, he’s not.” Something light settles in my stomach.
“I heard a junior tried very hard yesterday to make him ask for her number and failed. He must be very interested in yours if he got it on his own.”
“This doesn’t mean anything.” The lightness grows, the giddy feeling bubbling up inside me.
“Maybe not.” She leans in conspiratorially. “Maybe it does.”
When Ms. Evans announces she’ll question us about Wuthering Heights, I have the feeling Damon might take this opportunity to display the same unpleasantness as yesterday.
Be nice if Ms. Evans asks you something, I type quickly. Please.
He doesn’t type back, and as Ms. Evans begins to ask questions, I brace myself. She deliberately avoids asking him anything, though. Then she asks Beckett what his opinion is about the motives behind Heathcliff’s behavior. He stares at her with a blank face, clueless.
It’s Damon who answers. “Heathcliff felt out of place. He didn’t belong to their class, and everyone else never let him forget it.”
Ms. Evans’ eyes widen, but all she says is “Do you think that justifies him?”
“No. That’s no justification for being a dick to everyone,” Damon says nonchalantly.
Ms. Evans flinches. “That language doesn’t belong in the classroom, Damon.” Her tone is firm. I’m proud of her. “I’ll let you out of the questioning round because you’re new, and I gave this assignment a week ago.”
Damon’s lip twitches and I can tell he’s about to say something obscene back. I sit up straighter, staring at him intently. He catches my eye and winks at me. I instantly flush, dropping my gaze to my hands.
“I had to read the book in my junior year,” Damon replies. Ms. Evans nods and then continues questioning Anna. I think about something the principal mentioned today… Damon scored mostly A’s at his old school. My assessment was spot-on yesterday. Under the mask of carelessness hides a perfectionist. Someone smart. As Ms. Evans instructs us to look up a certain passage in the book, I shift in my chair, holding my copy in my hands and pretending to flip through its pages. In reality, I am sneaking glances at Damon. Who was he before he came here and whom did he lose?
Thank you for not being rude, I text him under the desk. I receive an answer almost immediately.
Ouch. That sounds like something you’d tell a dog. I’m not a poodle; don’t try to train me.
I write back quickly. You’re not a poodle. More like a pit bull. I hear those are hard to train. Whatever they do, it’s because they want to.
There is a pause in which I wait breathlessly, and then my smartphone vibrates. They also tend to attack their owners.
My fingers almost snap as I hurry to reply. I don’t believe that. They just have a bad reputation. Don’t believe everything you hear. It’s all appearances.
Another short vibration. Ms. Evans looks at me, so I just chance a glance at my phone. So what should I make of your Linkin Park t-shirt?
Frowning, I text back as best as I can while pretending to pay attention to Ms. Evans. What’s the harm in liking Kinky Fuck?
Damon’s next message confuses me. Is that an invitation? I read what I wrote before, and shame washed over me.
Abandoning all pretense of paying attention to the teacher, I wrote It was autocorrect. I meant Linkin Park. OMG, I’m so sorry.
He doesn’t write anything back, and when I look at him, he appears on the verge of bursting out laughing.
The bell rings and Damon walks out to his locker, where Anna follows him.